


Mercy

by editorbit



Series: Jerome & Jeremiah Character Studies(?) [16]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, One Shot, Pre-Laughing Toxin Jeremiah Valeska, Violence, ft. coffee again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-17 23:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21851272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/editorbit/pseuds/editorbit
Summary: Jerome sleeps on the floor in his cell and Jeremiah watches him.
Relationships: Jeremiah Valeska & Jerome Valeska, Jeremiah Valeska/Jerome Valeska
Series: Jerome & Jeremiah Character Studies(?) [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1514969
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Mercy

Jerome sleeps on the floor in his cell and Jeremiah watches him. He’d watched Jerome finally succumbing to his human needs and sit down in the corner before lying down on the hard floor with only his coat as a pillow. He’d watched him curl up in the corner like a vulnerable animal. He lied there still when Jeremiah came back with a cup of freshly brewed coffee and he continued to lie there as he drank it all. Jerome was asleep and still is very much so. 

Jeremiah watches his chest as it rises and falls with every deep breath escaping through his ever so slightly parted chapped lips. A peaceful, almost innocent and youthful expression is painted on his face. Jeremiah’s brought back to nights spent staring at the exact same face with the exact same expression, trying his best to just fall asleep and ignore all the noises from outside their room like his brother effortlessly does. He’s brought back to nights watching Jerome’s eyes flutter open, hand patting the spot beside him and pulling the blanket away so Jeremiah can slip in beside him. He’s brought back to noisy nights muffled by the warm hand of his brother. 

Jeremiah watches him lie there on the floor, right by his feet. Vulnerable. Alone. Completely at his mercy. Jerome is a mere prisoner in his prison. "I could kill you if I wanted to," he says, voice quiet and he barely recognises it as his own. The thoughts in his mind are just as unfamiliar. Well, he thinks, Jerome has always been an influence on him. Just being in his presence casts a shadow over Jeremiah’s mind. "Lock you away and let you starve." He traces his fingers down Jerome’s side, touches light and barely touching the fabric of Jerome’s vest. "Poison your meal and watch you choke." His touch travels further up, all the way to his Adam’s apple. "Press a knife to your neck and watch you bleed out right here." His fingers touch the soft flesh of Jerome’s throat. 

"No one would ever find your body. In weeks only, you’d be nothing but old news, yet another dead villain finishing his fifteen minutes of fame. You’d be forgotten." He lets his hand fall back in his lap. "No one would miss you."

"I’m hurt." Jeremiah’s heart does a little leap in his chest. For a moment he thinks it’s stopped, but right then it beats violently in his chest. A hand reaching for his tie stops him from standing. Even as he sits again the tie squeezes his throat uncomfortably tight. His own hands go for the part wrapped around his neck, attempting to give him more room to breathe properly. "I’m flattered, really, that you’d go through all that trouble for little old me, but I’m hurt." Jerome’s hand yanks harder at the tie and Jeremiah gasps for air. "I’m hurt you’re making all these empty promises."

Jeremiah’s vision is getting blurry. Black little spots dance across his vision. His mind is light and thoughtless. Panic runs through him and dread along with it at the feeling of something cold and sharp against the skin of his neck. The emotions seem to blend into an odd concoction of weakness and adrenaline. He doesn’t know where he summons the strength from. The punch is hard and echoes in his head. Jerome’s hands are still on him, but for a moment, he’s stunned. Jeremiah, still out of it, takes advantage of the rare moment. 

Jerome’s grip on the switchblade is tight. Combined with the constant pulling at Jeremiah’s tie, taking the blade from him is proved to be difficult. Jerome refuses to let go of it without a fight. The thin sharp blade is in the middle of the space between them. With each push of Jeremiah’s hand, it nears Jerome, but with each moment between them, Jerome shoves it closer to Jeremiah. Closer and closer it gets. Even with his blurry, darkening vision, Jeremiah sees it. He can feel it on his skin already and he pushes all he can with his trembling hands.

It slips right in. Right through the skin. Right through the soft flesh of his neck. Right into his neck. Jeremiah’s grip loosens. Big black spots cover most of his vision. They cover more and more until they morph together. The room disappears completely around him, Jerome along with it. Laughter is the last thing he hears before the world fades around him.

Jeremiah watches him. He watches him lie there, curled up with his head on his coat. He watches the peaceful expression on his face. He watches his brother lie there in his grave. Jeremiah cries as he fills the grave he’d dug.


End file.
